SEVASTOPOL AND BALAKLAVA
When the Crimea was annexed to Russia in 1783, Prince Potemkin
recognized the natural strength and military advantages of a village
called Ak-yar and the marine advantages of its harbour, which is a
narrow, deep fiord, extending inward several miles between low hills.
A few weeks after the treaty was signed which gave Russia sovereignty
over the peninsula, Catherine the Great, upon his recommendation,
issued an edict directing the creation of a military and naval station
and a fortress at that point.
She passed two days here in 1787 and rechristened the place with
a combination of two Greek words: Sevastos-polis, which means, in
English, “honoured” or “august city.” From that time Sevastopol (it
is pronounced Sevas-tow-pol--with the accent on the “tow”--) next to
Cronstadt, the Gibraltar of the north, has been the most strongly
fortified place in Russia, the military and naval headquarters of the
Black Sea, with a shipyard for the construction of vessels, shops for
the manufacture of guns, engines, and other machinery and equipment,
both military and naval; and the natural advantages have been improved
with such skill and expense as to make the finest and best equipped
military harbour in Europe. Sevastopol is purely a military town. Every
resident is either connected with the army or navy, or is dependent
upon one or the other branches of that service.
The city was almost entirely destroyed during the Crimean war, but was
immediately rebuilt and made stronger than ever. The Crimean war was
the result of the intervention of Great Britain, France, and Sardinia
for the protection of Turkey against the aggressive movements of
Russia, which insisted upon a treaty with the sultan giving the czar
the protectorate over all members of the Greek Church in his dominion,
who comprise about three fourths of the population of Turkey in Europe.
This claim could not be conceded by Turkey without ceasing to remain
an independent state, and war was declared against Russia in March,
1854. England and France sent fleets and armies to support Turkey and
a campaign was fought on the Danube to resist the Russian invasion.
Fleets of transports, loaded with Sardinians, French, and British
troops were sent to the Black Sea, through the Bosphorus, and landed at
Varna, which is now the port of Bulgaria, in April and May, 1854, but
cholera broke out there, and in September following, an army of 25,000
British, 25,000 French, and 8,000 Turks was transferred to the Crimea,
and disembarked thirty miles north of Sevastopol, where they fought the
battle of Alam and commenced the siege of Sevastopol.
The Battle of Balaklava followed on the 25th of October and that of
Inkerman on the 5th of November. Inkerman was known as the soldiers’
battle, because of the absence of officers of high rank. The British
camp was surprised by the Russians on a dark and drizzly morning when
most of the officers were absent, and the soldiers sustained a hand to
hand fight against five times their number of Russians until 6,000
French came to their aid and completed the rout of the enemy.
Balaklava was one of the fiercest battles ever fought and will be ever
remembered for the charge of the Light Brigade. No more spectacular
exhibition of nerve and courage was ever witnessed, and the act was
performed before an audience of 50,000 men. The charge of Pickett’s
division of the confederate army at the battle of Gettysburg was made
by several times the number of men and was repeated again and again
each time they were driven back. For desperate tenacity of purpose
and heroic determination, the charge of the First Minnesota infantry
at Gettysburg is more notable, but for dramatic effect nothing could
exceed the charge of the 600--or in reality 723--English cavalrymen,
who in obedience to a mistaken order, rode a mile and a half between
two Russian lines, under a murderous fire of musketry to silence a
battery that had been seriously harassing the British position.
The British forces suffered severely in the campaign, more than the
French or the Sardinians, and almost as much as the Russians. The Turks
suffered least of all, notwithstanding the fact that the war was fought
in their behalf. They were an insignificant factor in the struggle.
[Illustration: Grafskaya Pristan--Monumental Landing Place, Sevastopol]
[Illustration: Memorial Church, Sevastopol]
The war was famous for two of the most notable events in military
history--the siege of Sevastopol and the charge of the Light Brigade.
The siege lasted thirteen months, until the Russians were absolutely
starved out. They have always asserted that with food they might have
resisted forever. The city was assaulted four times “with infernal
fire,” and an appalling sacrifice of life, without making much
impression. It was not the assaults that brought Sevastopol down,
but the persistence of the siege. Military critics have often said that
it was a war of spades and not of guns. The entrenchments of the allies
were gradually advanced until the city was like a body of men wrapped
in the coils of an anaconda. The situation being no longer tenable, as
soldiers say, the Russians spiked their guns, blew up their magazines
and fortifications, burned their storehouses, sunk every floating thing
in the harbour, and evacuated, Sept. 10, 1855, having lost in the
siege, according to their own accounts, 2,684 killed, 7,342 wounded,
and 1,763 missing. The Russian losses in the several battles which
preceded the siege were more than 30,000 killed and wounded. The French
cemetery contains 28,000 graves, most of them marked.
After the Russians retired, the allies took possession of the ruins of
the city and remained until peace was declared.
The English losses were placed at 30,000. The unusual severity of the
winter, the lack of food, clothing, blankets, medicines, and other
necessaries caused terrible hardship and suffering, and more than
18,000 British soldiers died of disease, which is ten times as many as
were killed in battle during the entire campaign.
The trouble with the British army in the Crimea was the same that
appeared in the South African war fifty years later; the same that
prevailed on the part of the United States during our recent war with
Spain, a condition that military students are always warning each
other against, but seldom providing for. Although England went into
the war voluntarily, intervening for the protection of Turkey in an
affair which was of no direct interest to the government or the people
of Great Britain, both the army and the navy, in every department,
were totally unprepared. Upon the arrival of the troops at the Crimea,
they were absolutely without necessary supplies of food, clothing,
ammunition, and indeed practically everything else. The medical
department was without drugs, instruments, litters, and all other
requirements.
General Sir Evelyn Wood, in his history of the Crimean War, says:
“The neglect of all preparation for war during the forty years of peace
foredoomed the gallant army which left England in 1854, and general
mismanagement led it to the verge of annihilation. England’s futility
cost her dear in treasure, reputation, in blood; but the victims of
her short-sighted parsimony sustained the honour of Englishmen, and
with ragged clothes, muddy tents, and empty stomachs enriched the best
traditions of the service, past and to come.”
To make bad matters worse, a gale of unprecedented fury struck the
British fleet lying outside the little harbour of Balaklava and wrecked
twenty-one vessels, including the _Resolute_, a frigate, several loaded
transports, and a magazine ship laden with 10,000,000 rounds of rifle
and gun ammunition. General Wood says:
“She had been sent outside the harbour after the battle of Balaklava,
when we were apprehensive for the safety of the place. The _Prince_,
one of our largest transports, went down laden with warm clothing and
stores of all descriptions. It was, however, as unreasonable as it was
unjust to attempt to fasten the blame for the helpless muddle which
ensued on those in the Crimea. It was caused mainly by the neglect to
maintain the departments of the army during forty years of peace. It
was easy to criticise the conduct of our generals, but it should be
remembered that the government by very decided instructions had urged
them on to the undertaking of a great task with inadequate means.”
During the winter following the evacuation, Nicholas, the iron czar,
whose ambition to emulate Peter the Great and Catherine II, the most
famous of his ancestors, was the cause of the war, died. His brother,
Alexander II, a man of less determination and greater humanity, sought
the intervention of Austria, and peace was arranged Feb. 26, 1856.
A treaty was signed at Paris a few weeks later by all the powers of
Europe, in which the integrity and territory of the Ottoman Empire
were guaranteed. Russia was compelled to agree to abandon Sevastopol
as a military and naval station, not to fortify her coast, nor keep
more than six gunboats of a maximum of 800 tons each on the Black Sea.
These pledges, made under pressure, were repudiated by Russia as soon
as she was strong enough to do so. Sevastopol was not only strengthened
in its fortifications, but reinforced by a large fleet of battleships
and cruisers, and finally in 1876–77 the efforts of Alexander II to
drive the Turk out of Europe and emancipate Bulgaria, Rumelia, Bosnia,
Servia, Hertzegovia and Montenegro caused another war which was more
successful than that of the Crimea, and added much territory to the
Russian Empire and won much prestige for the Russian armies.
Sevastopol is to-day stronger than ever, the headquarters of a large
army and a large fleet of battle ships, cruisers, torpedo boats,
submarines and destroyers. New barracks are being erected, the
machine-shops and arsenals have been refitted with modern machinery,
and Russia is preparing for any opportunity that may offer to recover
the prestige she lost in the late war with Japan. The little city of
Sevastopol, which has about forty thousand inhabitants, occupies a very
picturesque situation upon a low promontory or hog’s back, as such
formations are usually called, about one hundred and fifty feet high in
the centre, and sloping gradually to the water on both sides. Viewed
from the sea the city looks much larger than it is, and the white walls
of the buildings glisten in the sun. On one shore is an estuary given
up to commerce. On the other side of the ridge is the naval harbour, or
inner bay, with a narrow entrance, defended by two old-fashioned forts
with square portholes, like those in the harbour of New York. The outer
bay is also strongly fortified, but the batteries are modern and are
masked, and it is difficult for a stranger to identify them.
At the beginning of the War of 1855 the entrance to the harbour was
blockaded in the same way that Hobson tried to bottle up Santiago de
Cuba. The Russians had a large fleet of rotten old wooden ships. They
were quite as good as any the Turks had, and Russia did not anticipate
the intervention of England and France, whose men-of-war were very
powerful in comparison. The Russian Admiral Kazarsky, in command of
the Russian ships, proposed to attack the British ships whether or
no, grapple them, blow them up and go down with them, but the Russian
authorities would not permit such a sacrifice of human life as the
scheme involved. So it was decided to use the hulls for defensive
rather than offensive purposes, and the entire fleet of the czar
was scuttled and sunk at the entrance of the harbor of Sevastopol.
Providence took care of the British fleet and sent a storm which
wrecked twenty-one of the vessels off the entrance to the little
harbour of Balaklava.
On the opposite side of the harbour from the town is the naval
station, reached by ferry boats which cross every few minutes. Immense
buildings--barracks for sailors and marines, hospitals, machine-shops,
arsenals, warehouses, sail lofts, and other structures--cover an
area of several hundred acres and extend up the side of the harbour
into the hills which surround the city on the north. There are tall
smokestacks rising in the air, and long docks and piers running into
the water. The officers’ houses are quite attractive in their situation
and appearance, and form a city of themselves. The commandant is also
the governor-general of the district, which seems a good idea, because
in that way rivalry, controversy, and conflict of authority, such as
constantly occurs in India and other places that might be mentioned,
is avoided. The present governor-general has a charming wife and
family, who speak English perfectly, having lived for several years in
London, where he was naval attaché of the Russian embassy. His official
residence is on the point of the promontory, in the centre of the town,
where he can overlook everything and everybody.
On both shores of the harbour are dry docks, yards for the building of
ships, and long rows of obsolete gunboats and transports of ancient
design. Near where the passenger steamers land is a yard for building
smaller craft and at present large gangs of men are at work upon long,
narrow torpedo boats, a dozen or more keels having been laid in a row.
At the passenger dock is a custom-house, fronting a large square,
with a park and a promenade, bathing-houses, an outdoor theatre,
restaurants, cafés, a skating rink, and a concert stand, where the band
plays every afternoon and evening. The social life of the citizens
centres there during the summer months. Everybody comes out in the
evening. Many families take their dinner there and entertain their
friends, and the scene is animated and enlivened by a large number of
army and navy officers in resplendent uniforms.
There is another park at the opposite end of the town, and a much
larger one, which was the site of the strongest fortifications during
the siege. Some of the old earthworks remain as relics, piles of
sandbags, basket-work, and trenches. The rest have been levelled, the
ground has been planted with trees and laid off into walks, drives,
and gardens. In the centre is a permanent building for the exhibition
of a panorama of the siege, but the original picture has been removed
to St. Petersburg and replaced with one representing the battle with
Circassian cavalry during the invasion of Daghestan.
There are several imposing monuments also, the most notable being in
honour of General Todleben, the engineer who designed and constructed
the defenses of the city at the time of the siege. He is regarded
as the greatest hero of the war, and shortly after the recovery of
Sevastopol by Russians he was presented with a handsome residence on
the main street. It is now occupied for official purposes.
In the public square in front of the custom-house is a striking bronze
figure of Admiral Nazanikin, who captured two Turkish frigates with one
small brig in the war of 1829.
A little way up the street is a memorial church, erected to the memory
of four admirals, Nakhimoff, Lazareff, Korniloff, and Istomin, all of
whom were conspicuous in the siege. Lazareff and Korniloff were both
killed at the battle of Malikoff Hill, near which the British cemetery
is located. This hill is called after a warrant officer in the Russian
navy, who lived on the site of the cemetery and was the grandfather of
the famous French marshal of that name.
Admiral Lazareff was educated in England, held a commission as
midshipman in the British navy for several years, and served under Lord
Nelson at the battle of Trafalgar.
There are imposing statues located in various parts of the city to
Admirals Kornkioff and Nashkioff and several other heroes of the siege.
There is a memorial chapel for Prince Gorchakoff, commander-in-chief of
the Russian forces during the siege. He died in 1861 and was brought
there for burial at his own request.
There is a charming little museum of pure classic architecture,
containing relics of the siege and of the men who were engaged upon the
Russian side.
Each nation has its own cemetery, in which the dead of the Crimean
War are buried. The Russian cemetery is the largest and occupies the
slopes of a hill across the outer bay from the city. In the centre is a
pyramid of stone 105 feet high, erected by the government in honour of
the officers and soldiers who fell in the siege, and surrounding it are
the graves of 38,000 soldiers.
The French cemetery contains 28,000 graves, and the British cemetery
only about 1,800, nearly all of the bodies of the dead having been
taken back to England. Several famous men are resting there, including
Major-general Sir John Campbell, who, the inscription upon his
monument tells us, was killed in action, June 18, 1855. His brother,
Major-general Colin Campbell, was also conspicuous on the British side
and afterward distinguished himself in the Indian Mutiny of 1857.
Sir George Cathcart, lieutenant-general, commanding the fourth
division of the British army, was also killed in action. By a strange
coincidence, he had served in the Russian army against Napoleon in 1813
and 1814, just as Admiral Lazareff had served with Nelson. Sir George
Cathcart was killed at the battle of Inkerman, wearing upon his breast
three decorations which had been bestowed upon him for bravery by the
Russian czar when he was a young man.
A cottage in which Lord Raglan, commander of the British forces, died,
overlooks the battlefield of Balaklava. It was the headquarters of
the British army and was known as Vracker’s farmhouse, but it is now
occupied and owned by a Russian named Maximovitch, who has a large
vineyard. A sign on his gate reads: “Alpha Vineyard.”
A stone slab under a tree in the garden marks the place where Lord
Raglan used to sit in his last illness, brooding over the unjust
criticisms that were directed at his conduct of the campaign. In one of
the rooms is a tablet inscribed: “In this room died Field Marshal Lord
Raglan, G. C. B., Commander in Chief of the British army of the Crimea,
28th June, 1855.”
On the door of the house are the names of Raglan, Simpson, and
Cedrington, the three officers who commanded the British army during
the campaign.
The British have been more careful and more thoughtful in preserving
the remembrances of their share in the campaign than either of the
other nations, and the cemetery and other spots identified with their
men are preserved in perfect order under the direction of Douglas
Young, the British consul, who also looks after American interests at
Sevastopol.
A trolley line encircles the city of Sevastopol, and extends into the
suburbs, with open cars which are more comfortable than carriages,
because of the rough stone pavements in the streets. There is a
military and naval club, many attractive shops, and several churches,
including a replica of the Temple of Thesus at Athens.
There are several good hotels, the chief one being close to the
passenger landing. It is neat and well kept, and has an excellent cook,
but the charges are as high as those of the Waldorf-Astoria in New
York, or the Savoy in London, with petty extortions that exasperate
travellers, particularly Americans, to the limit of patience. No one
objects to a straight bill at so much per day, even if the total is
excessive, but when you are charged for candles and soap that you
don’t use, for the use of towels and the bed linen, for the ordinary
stationery that is always supplied free elsewhere, and for the use of
the newspapers in the public reading-room, a righteous indignation is
excited.
These impositions, which are common all over Russia, are merely a
gamble. If a guest objects to them they are stricken off the bill;
but if he pays them without protest rather than make a row, as most
Americans do, the landlord is so much ahead. And what makes it more
aggravating than all is to realize that you are being purposely imposed
upon simply to test your forbearance.
The battlefield of Balaklava is carpeted with flowers, and the poppies
are so thick upon the meadow where the charge of the Light Brigade was
made that it looks like a field of blood. There are patches of purple
flowers whose name I do not know, and the road which winds around
the battlefield has a hedge of sweetbriar roses, which are covered
with pink blossoms. You cannot imagine a more peaceful landscape
than the gentle slope of that beautiful valley, lying between two
low ridges, which on the morning of Oct. 25, 1855, was covered with
40,000 spectators--Englishmen, Frenchmen, Russians, Sardinians, and
Turks, involuntary and astonished witnesses of one of the most reckless
exhibitions of human courage ever seen, and one of the most useless
sacrifices of human life. No arena could have been arranged for a
better view of the spectacle. And to-day the landscape is precisely
as it was then, except that the valley is now dotted with several
farmhouses surrounded by groves of locust and shrubbery and a Chicago
windmill stands in the centre.
The spot where the dragoons started, where Earl Cardigan, the impetuous
young Irishman, who commanded the Light Brigade, gave his one and only
word of command during the charge, is marked by a marble shaft and the
pedestal is inscribed:
“Erected by the British army to the memory of their comrades who fell
at Balaklava.”
That word of command was: “Left wheel into line! Forward, march!” Not a
word was spoken after that.
Where stood the battery which was the object of assault is now a cherry
orchard.
Water is very scarce upon the battlefield of Balaklava; all the farmers
have is pumped up by the Chicago windmill, and hauled in casks to the
neighbouring houses. Every drop used to water the English cemetery is
hauled half a mile.
[Illustration: The village of Balaklava]
There were two splendid cavalry charges at the battle of Balaklava, one
by 300 heavy dragoons under command of Major-general Scarlett and the
other by the light cavalry under command of the Earl of Cardigan. The
former, from a military standpoint, was remarkably successful, because
three squadrons of Englishmen surprised, demoralized, and practically
put to rout two brigades of Russian cavalry, numbering nearly three
thousand men. The latter, although one of the most spectacular displays
of human daring in all history, was of comparatively no effect and was
the result of a misunderstanding of orders.
The scene of those two cavalry charges is a wide and beautiful valley
between two low ridges about two miles south of the picturesque little
port of Balaklava. The British troops had taken possession of the ridge
north of this valley, were throwing up earthworks, and completing their
camp, when, on the evening of Oct. 24, 1855, Rustem Pasha, in command
of the Turkish contingent, sent word to Lord Raglan, in command of the
British troops, that the Russians were preparing for a surprise attack
the next morning. As there had been already more than one false alarm,
Lord Raglan contented himself with asking for an immediate report of
any further news and no extra precautions were taken.
Shortly after daylight the next morning General Scarlett, with eight
squadrons of heavy dragoons, started out on a reconnoissance, and as he
passed over the ridge came plump upon the flank of a brigade of Russian
cavalry, about three thousand strong, which was advancing quietly
upon the British position. Both forces were moving without scouts or
flankers, and thus neither of the cavalry generals, whose men were
soon to be in close personal conflict, was aware of the movements
of his adversary. When General Scarlett realized the situation he
immediately gave the command to charge and plunged directly into the
centre of the Russian line, which was only about two hundred yards
distant. But the order was heard by only three of the eight squadrons,
the other five having passed on the other side of a narrow vineyard.
Scarlett’s movement, however, was distinctly seen by the rest of the
army and the witnesses say that when the three troops of dragoons
dashed into the Russian ranks they were entirely engulfed, but, with
their sabers they hacked their way through with such impetuosity that
in eight minutes they were entirely clear. The shock and the surprise
threw the Russian troops into such confusion that they practically fled
from the field, pursued on both flanks by the other British troops.
Scarlett lost seventy-eight men in the charge. The Russians lost about
six hundred.
During this extraordinary episode the Light Brigade, under the command
of Earl Cardigan, remained motionless because the commander believed
that Lord Lucan, in command of the cavalry, had given him orders to
defend the position on which he stood against any attack, and on no
account to leave it.
The Earl of Cardigan was an Irish peer, fifty-seven years old, rich,
reckless and popular, notorious for his love affairs, famous as a
sportsman and as a rider to hounds, resolute in purpose, a dare-devil
with a terrible temper, and entirely without military experience. He
owed his rank and prominence in the army to the purchase system and to
the favour of the Duke of York, and although he had a passionate love
for military affairs, unfaltering courage and a strong sense of duty,
his inexperience alone would have unfitted him for any responsibility.
He had fought two duels. One of the quarrels was over the colour of a
bottle; the other was over the size of a teacup. At the time of the
famous charge, although a brigade commander of troops in the field, he
was living on board a yacht in the harbour of Balaklava by permission
of Lord Lucan, his brother-in-law, commander of the cavalry, while the
officers and men under him as well as his superiors, were cheerfully
bearing the hardships and privations of camp life.
Thus the Earl of Cardigan had nothing to recommend him for his command
but his courage and horsemanship.
The Light Brigade had seen their comrades of the Heavy Dragoons achieve
one of the most brilliant cavalry victories ever recorded, and were
naturally impatient to emulate their example, when an order was brought
to Lord Lucan by a young lieutenant, named Nolan, which read as follows:
“Lord Raglan wishes the cavalry to advance rapidly to the front and try
to prevent the enemy carrying away the guns. Troop of horse artillery
may accompany. The French cavalry is on your left. Immediate.”
From the spot where Lord Lucan received this order no Russians were
visible, and he asked sharply:
“Attack, sir! Attack what guns?”
Nolan replied with an insulting tone, pointing in an easterly direction:
“There, My Lord, is your enemy, and there are your guns.”
Lord Lucan rode across to where the Light Brigade was impatiently
waiting, and communicated the order to Lord Cardigan, who gave the
command and led his troops down the valley at a slow trot. Shortly
after the advance began, Nolan, the aide who had brought the order,
galloped across their front, shouting and pointing with his sword
toward a Russian battery in a hollow a mile and a half distant. Lord
Cardigan understood that Nolan was indicating the object of the charge,
but the latter was unable to give any further information, for he
was instantly struck by a shell which tore away his chest. His horse
continued on a gallop and his body remained for some seconds erect in
the saddle.
The floor of the valley is as smooth as a race course; there is a
gentle slope the entire distance, which is about a mile and a quarter,
but on the west and south sides were masses of Russian troops and in
front a battery of twelve guns, so that the brigade was subjected to
a cross fire of musketry and a direct fire of artillery the entire
distance.
It is estimated that the entire movement lasted but twenty minutes, and
that Cardigan rode at the rate of seventeen miles an hour. His troops
were composed of the flower of the army, life guards, lancers, hussars,
and light dragoons. Most of them were English and Irishmen, and several
noblemen were among the officers. The command kept its formation with
remarkable skill, considering that so many of their comrades fell from
their saddles, but nearly all the riderless horses maintained their
positions until the battery was reached. The gunners were sabered,
the guns were turned upon their owners and the greater part of the
survivors of the Light Brigade threw themselves furiously upon a line
of Russian cavalry which was supporting the battery in the rear.
The French Chasseurs d’Afrique, which had observed the movement with
astonishment, came to the rescue of the Englishmen, and the latter made
their way back singly and in squads to headquarters.
Out of 723 officers and men who followed the Earl of Cardigan down that
valley only 195 came back.
General Sir Evelyn Wood says: “It was a glorious failure, as the charge
of the Heavy Dragoons was an astounding success, but Lord Tennyson’s
enthusiastic pen blinded the public to the military value of the two
exploits, and thus the determined gallantry shown in the attack of
the three squadrons of the heavy brigade has remained comparatively
unappreciated.”
Of course a controversy followed and it lasted for many years in
the war office, in the newspapers, in the clubs, in parliament, and
wherever men and women talked of the war. Cardigan showed a manly
spirit in the controversy as he had shown unparalleled bravery in
leading the charge. He had never been under fire before. He had never
had the responsibility of actual command under serious conditions
of any kind; he did not have the slightest knowledge of military
tactics, and he admitted frankly that it did not occur to him that
an unsupported movement of cavalry across an open field, a mile and
a quarter, exposed from two lines of the enemy, and in the face
of a battery of twelve guns, was a feat absolutely impossible of
performance. He said he understood that his orders were to take that
battery and he took it. His reckless Irish courage saw no reason why he
should not do so.
Lord Lucan, in command of the cavalry, and who, as I have said, was
Cardigan’s brother-in-law, was utterly astounded when he saw how his
orders had been interpreted, and Lord Raglan, the commander-in-chief,
was paralyzed. The movement could be seen from start to finish by the
entire army and the scarlet uniforms of the Light Brigade made it
possible to watch man by man, as they plunged into the ranks of the
Russians whose uniforms were gray.
Sifting the single grain of truth from the volume of argument and
opinion, the charge of the Light Brigade was a blunder committed by an
impetuous Irishman who misunderstood his orders and whose inexperience
did not permit him to suspect a mistake.
General Bosquet, commander of the French contingent, who witnessed the
charge from the beginning to the end, turned to Colonel Layard of the
British army and remarked:
“_C’est magnifique; mais ce n’est pas la guerre._” (It is magnificent;
but it is not war.)
Lord Tennyson and time have sanctified the blunder and, notwithstanding
the folly of the act and the awful wastage of heroic blood, the charge
of the Light Brigade stands unparalleled as an exhibition of soldierly
discipline and daring. Not a man faltered in the ranks, not a man
hesitated to enter “the jaws of death” and “the mouth of hell,” as
ordered, although every experienced private in the ranks must have
realized that “some one had blundered.” But it was a case of “Theirs
not to reason why; theirs but to do and die,” and they rode down the
long valley with the same coolness and alignment that they would have
kept on the parade ground.
“When can their glory fade?
Oh the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder’d.
Honour the charge made,
Honour the Light Brigade
Noble six hundred!”
Florence Nightingale is the immortal, as she was the most interesting
figure of the Crimean war, and every school child knows her name.
Millions of people throughout the world recognized her as “the Angel of
the Crimea,” although they have never heard the name of the commander
of the Light Brigade or the names of the generals-in-chief of either
army. And I do not believe that one man or woman out of a thousand
to-day can tell who commanded the British troops or the French allies;
I doubt if one in ten thousand could give the name of the Russian
general commander-in-chief; but the fame of Florence Nightingale is
universal. She was the first woman to take up professional nursing;
the first to follow an army into action, to nurse the sick and to bind
up the wounds of the fallen. She was the only woman who ever received
the Order of Merit of Great Britain, the most exclusive and highly
prized decoration, with the exception of the Victoria Cross, that can
be bestowed by the king of England. The membership of the order is
limited to twenty-four and includes such men as Earl Roberts, Lord
Kitchener, John Morley, James Bryce, Lord Kelvin, George Meredith, and
Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema.
Florence Nightingale died Aug. 14, 1910, at the advanced age of
ninety years three months and two days. She lived at Chelsea, one
of the outlying parishes of London, and although her body showed the
infirmities of age, her mind was as bright and her sympathies as
active as they were when she won the title of “Angel of the Crimea” in
1855–56.